


Unapologetic

by tinyscienceangels



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Less Than 5K, except not really because word limits are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyscienceangels/pseuds/tinyscienceangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Agents of SHIELD S2 Finale AU for fitzsimmonsnetwork's Less Than 5k Exchange<br/>Prompt: Fitz gets stabbed instead of Gordon in the S2 finale, and Simmons sees him in recovery. </p><p> </p><p>Fitz faces another near death experience, and in the true Fitzsimmons way, overdue feelings are exposed. They know better than anyone that when at war, when all could be dead by dawn, time mustn’t be wasted. Instead, it’s a time to say sorry, a time to forgive, a time to confess; most of all, it’s a time to unapologetically love those that remain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unapologetic

 

**DAY THREE**

 

            “Simmons, you need to eat something.”

 

            Jemma shook her head slowly, staring blankly at the sandwich that had been prepared for her five minutes previously. She appreciated the concern, but all of Coulson’s attempts to pry her from her dark little corner had been futile, and they would continue to be equally worthless until she had definite proof that Fitz would return to her, safe and sound.

            “I can’t.”

            “You starving yourself won’t bring back Fitz.” A lone tear scurried down Jemma’s face, dropping right into her tea. But she forced a smile anyway.

            “I swear on Captain America, once I know that Fitz is okay, I’ll eat a full pancake breakfast, just for you.”

            “Swearing on Cap? For his sake, you’d better follow through on that,” Coulson tried to joke, but his eyes were lacking the usual luster that accompanied what he thought was quality entertainment. “He will be okay. Fitz is a fighter. You know that.”

            “I can’t do this to him again.”

            “He’ll wake up, Simmons. It was a tricky surgery, and he needs time. And you need to eat.”

            Jemma picked up her tea, hands shaking the entire time she lifted the mug to her lips. “He’d better.”

**DAY ONE: THE INCIDENT**

 

            Adrenaline carried Fitz through the hallways and into a room where he gripped his weapon of choice like a badge he’d been born to wear. He glowed with confidence; he was almost certain Jemma’s words came from a place of fear and confusion, but nevertheless, Fitz took those words and ran with them. The dissection and doubt and denial would come later. For now, he would fight.

            His movements remained quick and calculated, and for a man who had never been properly trained for combat, he held his own. He remained alert, and every time Gordon swung at him, Fitz was one step ahead, already out of Gordon’s path. Until he misread him. Fitz ducked a moment too late, and before Fitz could regain his rhythm, he found himself shoved into a corner.

            Fitz tried his best to stay conscious, but considering the circumstances, it would have been a damn miracle. Despite all he’d seen during his time with SHIELD, he was still a bit queasy about things like this, so as soon as he saw the pipe embed itself into his chest, and as soon as he realized that blood was already soaking through his tact gear, he blacked right out. He blacked out before he could even begin to feel any of the oncoming pain.

 

**DAY ONE: DURING THE INCIDENT**

 

            After pulling herself together following Fitz’s departure, Jemma found herself wandering into Bobbi’s makeshift hospital room. “Coulson, Mack, and Fitz are going after Gordon. Thought you should know.” She lingered at the doorway, still unsure whether she should stick around. She didn’t know whether Bobbi wanted to be alone with Hunter, but Jemma sure didn’t want that for herself. To be alone, that is.

            “Good,” Hunter said, popping his head up from its resting spot on Bobbi’s bed.

            “Any signs of Ward since…”

            “Since he bloody tried to kill us?" Lance asked, his tone laced with total disgust. “No. I bleeding hate the guy, but gotta give credit where credit’s due. That bastard’s good at hiding his tracks.”

            “Oh,” Jemma said absently. So he got away. Bloody fantastic. She frowned.

            “Anything you’d like to share?” Bobbi asked. Jemma kept her eyes down when she saw Hunter absently stroking the top of Bobbi’s hand with his thumb.

            Jemma shook her head. She was being silly. They didn’t need to know. Jemma was about to tell them so when Bobbi glared at Jemma so hard that Jemma changed her mind about sharing just so Bobbi would stop looking at her like that.

            “Okay. I guess I-I think taking Fitz was a bad idea. I mean, I know they need him because he’s the only one who can trap Gordon, and I know he can take care of himself, but neither of us ever received full training for combat and I don’t want to begin thinking about what would happen to the team if something—“

            “Pause,” Hunter said loudly. Jemma scrunched up her nose.

            “What? Like you wouldn’t be thinking the same thing if it were Bobbi going out there.”

            “No, I wouldn’t. Bob can take care of herself.”

            “Damn right I can,” Bobbi said with as proud of a smile as she could manage for someone in her condition. “So can Fitz. Don’t worry about him,” she added. She then stared down Jemma for several seconds. Jemma wasn’t sure what Bobbi was trying to tell her until Bobbi said, “You can come in the room you know.”

            “Right, of course,” Jemma said, just then realizing she had been gripping the doorway for dear life. She stepped forward just a little until she had reached a wall she could lean against, and she stood there quietly for several minutes, smiling and rolling her eyes at all the right moments. Hunter shared dumb stories about his time in hiding with Coulson—“Excuse me Bob, watching Mexican football _was_ important”—and while she was glad they could laugh and joke as if the world they knew wasn’t crumbling to pieces, shewished she could be doing something. Sure, they had everything under control for the moment, but Jemma was getting antsy. She stood up straight.

            “Uh, Jemma?”

            “You know, I think I’ll check and see whether May needs any help with the—“

            “No, you won’t.” Bobbi said. “You’ll sit here with me while Hunter grabs me a beer.”

            “You just had surgery! I most definitely will not!”

            “Yes, you will,” Bobbi said, pointing her head at Jemma, and then out the door.

            “Ah, right. Of course,” Hunter said, squeezing Bobbi’s hand before standing up. “My bad,” he said. The tone was kind, but the sarcasm was apparent, and not until he gave a look that translated to _what the hell?_ did he dash out of the room.

            “Beer? Is that really the best idea?” Jemma asked, concerned that Bobbi wasn’t taking her condition seriously.

            “Oh, he won’t be getting any. I heard the next grocery run is actually scheduled a few days from now, and we are conveniently out of beer. A shame. But, I thought that would earn us a bit of time.”

            “A bit of time for what, may I ask?”

            “Come on, Jemma. I know there’s more bothering you. Spit it out.”

            Jemma hesitated, moving from her spot against the wall and taking over the chair Hunter had vacated. “Well,” she said, winding her fingers together. “Before Fitz left with Coulson and Mack, I sort of said something to him.”

            “Ah, thanks. That clears it up.”

            “Excuse me, you’re the one who told me I need to explain to him how I’m feeling.”

            “So you told him, then?” Bobbi asked, looking skeptical. Jemma didn’t need to ask what Bobbi meant. They knew what she meant.

            Jemma paused to take a breath. “I told him I’d like to talk about what he said to me at the bottom of the ocean.”

            “Oh, wow,” Bobbi said, rolling her eyes. “You got me there. You talked _about_ talking. I’m blushing.”

            Jemma ignored that. “And now hell if I know what’s happening with us. I mean, I’m glad I said it, but should I have been more clear? Oh, should I have not even—“ Jemma stopped abruptly.

            “If you want me to finish your sentence for you, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

            Jemma held up a finger. “I hear shouting. Don’t you hear it?” Bobbi stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, and nodded. “I’ll be back,” Jemma said.  

            Jemma ducked out of the room, listening intently. The shouting intensified the longer she waited. “CLEAR OUT THE FIRST ROOM YOU FIND, AND GET HIM IN. NOW, GO!” she heard. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she understood the instructions, loud and clear. Someone was hurt badly. The voices got louder still as she stood. Jemma backed up, returning to the doorway to be sure they had space. If someone needed help, the last thing she wanted was to be in the way. As she stood, hand gripping tightly on the door frame, the noise grew louder still, and she heard the squeal of what sounded like wheels against the hard flooring. Jemma almost crumpled to the floor when they dashed past her. Fitz had been the one lying there. Jemma felt like vomiting.

            There was no time for that, though. Instead, she ran after him, ignoring her previous idea that she’d stay out of the way. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

            When she caught up, he was being wheeled into an empty room, one with a bed, and the door was slammed shut. Men were pushing back anyone who wasn’t assigned to perform surgery, but Jemma didn’t care in the slightest. She may still like following rules when the occasion called for it, but this was not that occasion. “I need to see Fitz,” she said, out of breath, tears slowly wandering down her face and finishing at her blouse. The man said something about how she wasn’t allowed, but Jemma wasn’t having it. “Let me see Fitz,” she repeated, stronger now.

            The man told her no again, so she fought. Rules didn’t matter; he needed her, and even further, she needed him. Jemma tried her best to push past, but this guard was a big man, and his placing both of his hands at the top of her arms halted her advances. She pushed again, but it was no use.

            The first sobbing scream left her mouth, and the tears would not stop. She hadn’t screamed like this since Fitz had forced her to take that oxygen, and suddenly, Jemma found that she was struggling to breathe.

            She felt an arm tugging her away, and she sobbed as she tried to fight it away. She just wanted Fitz. Why wouldn’t they let her see Fitz? Did that man not know that she was the head of the Science Division and that she most definitely should have been the first in the room? Jemma screamed Fitz’s name again and the tugging grew stronger.

            “We need to leave him, Agent Simmons,” she heard Coulson say, and slowly, she stopped struggling, at last sobbing into his arm as Coulson led her away from the scene.

 

**DAY FOUR: MORNING**

 

            Fitz woke feeling unusually drowsy. How much medication had they given him? Several machines were attached to his body, monitoring his heart rate, his blood pressure, and other vital organ functions. He felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck. Immediately after waking, men rushed into the room, the same men who brought him here, and they began fussing about with clipboards and blood tests and all Fitz could do was lie there and watch them work through half-closed eyelids.

            They spoke quietly amongst themselves as they worked on him, as if Fitz couldn’t hear them. Perhaps they thought he couldn’t.

            “The kid was out for awhile—gave Coulson quite the spook.”

            “So I hear. Ah, his heart rate is still a little inconsistent. Could you keep monitoring him today? I’d ask Agent Simmons to do it, and I’m sure she’d be glad to, but I ‘ve received word that she’s prepping Agent Morse for her final surgery, and if I’m not mistaken, there has been a request that Agent Simmons be the one to give Agent Skye a lookover.”

            “Yeah, of course.”

            “I would like to get Agent Simmons in here sometime today, though. Agent Fitz will already be due for a blood test and to be checked for head trauma later—though there don’t seem to be any head injuries—but we’d best run that by her first in case there are any additional tests that she wants done.”

            The other man clicked his tongue and scribbled something down with a red pen.

            “ _Poor Jemma_ ”, Fitz thought. She was at everyone’s beck and call, and Fitz would be willing to bet a fair amount of money that she wasn’t sleeping or eating properly so that everyone received quality care. Fitz felt awful for thinking so, but in addition to everything she was doing, he also wanted her here with him. Nearly everyone had come around to see him; Hunter, Coulson, Skye, and even May, but every time he asked one of them about Simmons, they looked at him with pity and mentioned yet another person she had given in to helping.

            Everyone was wearing her down and they probably had no idea. He was too tired to speak and tell off his doctors for failing to recognize that. A new dose of anaesthesia hit him hard before he could become angry at them.

           

**DAY ONE: LATE AFTERNOON**

 

            Fitz woke, and when he did, he found himself lying on a gurney, men surrounding him, and he was moving fast. He didn’t know how long he had been out—minutes? Hours?—but his chest was wrapped with some type of gauze, blood was soaking through, and he yelled out in pain. Everything hurt so much.

            He heard frenzied shouts from the men around him, and as he was wheeled into a room, he swore he saw Simmons. He tried to shout to her, but the sharp inhale alone felt like his insides were being ripped out, so he gave up on that and focused on breathing.

            Was he dying? He had to be dying. This was worse than drowning, even. He felt the surface beneath him stop, and he wished Jemma were with him. She’d make this better. He didn’t know how, but she would. But he couldn’t see her. In fact, he couldn’t see anything. The pain caused him to lose consciousness again, and he didn’t wake again for almost three days.

 

 

 

**DAY FOUR: EVENING**

 

            Fitz woke, and no one was around. Each time he’d woken recently, he’d been surrounded. Now he was alone, and the only sounds in the room were his breathing and the occasional buzzes and beeps from the medical equipment.

            Just as Fitz was about to begin panicking over why no one was here—had everyone died, had the Inhumans misused the Terrigen Crystals, had they all abandoned ship and left him here to die?—a shadow appeared at the door. The door swung open to reveal a tired-looking Jemma Simmons.

            “Jemma,” he breathed, fully awake for the first time since he’d been dragged to this room. She didn’t say a word at first. She just walked over and stood over where he lay, surveying him.

            Remembering why she hadn’t been around, Fitz whispered to her, just loud enough for her to hear. “You shouldn’t be in here. You need to sleep. Take care of yourself.” Jemma simply shrugged.

            She touched the bandage that was wrapped around his torso, and she started rambling. “Has this been changed recently? It looks like it may need changing. How about painkillers? Do you need more? Are you feeling feverish? Any chills?”

            “Jemma, stop,” Fitz said as strongly as he could manage. “Don’t worry about me.My doctor has a handle on everything. Go get some rest, and come back later. I’ll still be here.”

            “Fitz I don’t think you under—“

            “I understand perfectly what happened, thank you. I’ve been bloody stabbed.”

            Jemma forced herself to smile. “Well, yes. That’s not it though. Well, it is, but there’s more. After all the surgeries to fix you up, you were out for two whole days. I was worried you wouldn’t wake.” She looked down after those words, and all Fitz could do was stare, wide-eyed.

            Two days? He knew two days was nothing in the full span of things, but had he really done that to her again? What an idiot he was.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “For what?”   

            “For scaring you again. With…that…the…not waking up thing,” he finished. Fitz knew there was a word for it, but it would not come to him, as if he weren’t already frustrated with himself enough.

            “It’s not your fault,” Jemma assured him. “That’s not what I was insinuating. Not in the slightest.”

            “It is though.” Fitz could not believe he’d done this to her. Been dead to the world, and left her for days. And again. With Fitz’s rubbish luck, another horrible thing would happen within the next thirty minutes or so. He did not have a thing to lose at this point, really. With that in mind, words spilled out of his mouth more quickly than he thought he was still capable of speaking, words coming out before his usual filter (the one that was temporarily damaged by all the painkillers) could warn him to shut it down. “You told me to be careful, and I wasn’t. It’s my fault. This, and my head, and everything that’s happened to us in this damn place. I should have pulled back the second we failed our field assessments. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t be so…this…and Skye would be happier, and you would be happier, and we’d all—“

            “Fitz,” Jemma said, trying to get him to stop. Fitz heard her, but he chose not to respond. He had so much to apologize for.

            “No, no, Jemma, you don’t understand. If I had just been better, if I had tried harder, you would be so much better off, you know? And you say it’s not my fault, that there’s so much more at play here, but if you really look at it, and if you really dissect it all, it all comes back to me.”

           “Fitz,” she repeated, but he waved his hand to give the signal that he wasn’t done. He couldn’t stop now. He still had so much to say.

            “No, Jemma, listen. You’re not looking at it from my perspective. I’ve made things too dangerous for you. Not that I think you’re incapable, but none of this was supposed to happen. We were supposed to join SHIELD as scientists and save ordinary people, safely, from the lab, and that would be it. I wouldn’t be such a…a mess, and you wouldn’t have confessed what I know you only said to make me feel better, and everything would be better. It would be better.”

            Jemma had been waiting patiently until there was a lapse. She scrunched her eyebrows together at Fitz’s final thought. “I what? Said something I didn’t mean? What are you talking about? I’ve been very careful not to lie to you, and I haven’t.”

            “Is that so? How about that ‘maybe there is something to talk about’, huh?”

            Jemma didn’t have any words. None at all. She stood there gaping at him for a good minute, and when she finally thought of words to say, it turned out that she didn’t want to say them at all. So she changed course, down a path that they’d been skirting from so long that she wasn’t sure whether he still wanted her to walk beside him.

            “I’m sorry Fitz. I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. Not like this,” she said, blinking away the tears that dared slip without her permission.

            “Do wha—“

            Jemma bent down, grabbed a fistful of his collar, and kissed him with enough pressure that he’d be aware it was not an accident, all before he could finish enunciating the sentence.

            “Now it’s my turn,” Jemma said, pulling back quickly, failing to notice Fitz’s expression. It was the same expression he’d worn in the pod, the same expression he’d worn when Jemma had grabbed his hand just three days ago and told him perhaps there was more to discuss. “So please don’t interrupt.” She spoke quickly now, afraid that if she didn’t, she’d lose what she wanted so badly to express. “I don’t know how you feel, and how you feel does matter, of course it does, but I just had to do that. After everything, I couldn’t not. I don’t know what’s going to happen, okay? I don’t. No one does. If I didn’t let you know…I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I’m sorry. In case we die tomorrow, or the next day, or whatever, which I’ve accepted could very well happen, I just need you to know that what you said to me at the bottom of the ocean? I didn’t have time to process it before—everything was happening too fast—but now I have, and it’s absolutely mutual.”

            She stopped to breathe. “And if you don’t…if you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine, I get it, I absolutely get it, but I had to do that just once, and tell you just once. I’m sorry. I should just…sorry.”

            Jemma slowly inched away from Fitz, her heart beating quickly. She was out of breath again. She hadn’t said so many words to him since before everything had started going south, and it was taking a toll on her. The words she could handle; what she hadn’t expected was the uncomfortable dropping sensation in her stomach at the slightest possibility that Fitz and her were not even heading in the same direction anymore.

            Jemma continued to inch away, as if she were expecting to slip out of the room, and that Fitz wouldn’t notice. News flash: Fitz noticed everything about Jemma Simmons. She was trying to leave, and he didn’t want her to leave. Perhaps not ever.  

            “Jemma, could you stay a minute?”

            “Why?” She’d embarrassed herself enough. She crossed her arms across her chest and held on tightly. She couldn’t dare let them go now that she’d given herself that comfort; otherwise, the racking sobs would start. The tears that she’d blinked away as she’d backed away were prickling her eyes again, and she wanted them gone. She’d cried too much these past few months, and they were not welcome.

            “There’s a chair. Sit, please.”

            “I don’t know if that’s such a—“

            “Please, Jemma,” he said, and he sounded so pleading and desperate that she listened and took a seat, tangling her hands together so she could have something to focus on other than the blue eyes that were breaking her heart with every blink.

            “I have some problems with what just happened.”

            Jemma’s breath hitched before she had the chance to control it. She tightened all the muscles in her face to stop the tears from falling. She could do this. He’d told her how he felt, and she hadn’t reciprocated at the time, and now he was about to do the same to her. It was only fair.

            “As your friend, I respect what you’ve said, but there’s a massive flaw in that you spewed some nonsense about how I might have changed my mind?” The tears in the corners of Jemma’s eyes waited for the signal. They’d be ready. Jemma listened carefully. She’d be ready too. “I have not changed my mind. Not even a little. Not for a moment.”

            Just like that, for several seconds, her eyes were dry. She silently processed what he’d said. He still—he hadn’t changed his mind about her. His words from months and months ago rang in her head. _Yeah, you’re more than that, Jemma. And I couldn’t find the courage to tell you, so please, let me show you._ Jemma wanted to cry all over again.

            Jemma unclasped her hands and learned forward on the bed so she could hug Fitz tighter than she had all year. Fitz didn’t even complain when she accidentally pushed on his abdomen. A groan escaped from his throat however, and Jemma immediately jumped back, a guilty expression replacing her previous look of joy.

            “Oh, sorry! I’m so sorry, Fitz,” she said, but he shook his head. The pain was worth it, because finally, the two of them were on the exact same page; they were moving in complete unison. Jemma leaned forward, placing one hand very gently on Fitz’s shoulder, while the other cradled the back of his head. She placed long slow kisses on every inch of his face, pausing long enough at each spot to give each the care she wished he’d give himself.

            As her mouth pressed against his cheeks, his forehead, his temple, Fitz would have been foolish to expect that his mind wouldn’t immediately flash back to that moment days ago, when Jemma had said, “maybe there is” and how Fitz had absolutely intended on kissing her. How he had intended on pulling her by the hand and pressing his mouth to hers so she would know, just in case, as she had done for him moments ago.

            Fitz closed his eyes as Jemma pressed her lips gently against his eyelids, and he couldn’t help think that perhaps it was a good thing that Coulson had entered when he did, and that Fitz hadn’t kissed her that day. That she’d come all the way to tell him to be careful (which he didn’t do) had been enough that his confidence had shot up enough just long enough for him to be reckless and get himself stabbed. He didn’t even want to think about the alternative; if he’d had even an ounce more of that temporary confidence, he probably wouldn’t have even made it past the door.

            “Thank God you’re alive,” Jemma whispered, her voice soft, somehow knowing exactly what he needed to hear.

            Fitz just nodded, and as lovely as it felt to have her mouth pressing up against his face in the most intimate of ways, it also wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted much more. However, Fitz also wasn’t brave enough. Though she had kissed him, he still didn’t know what Jemma wanted. She was vulnerable and everyone was hurting; he knew that better than anyone. So instead of do what _he_ wanted, he did something very Jemma-like. He grabbed her hand, settling his fingers in the space between hers with just enough pressure that he was sure the heat that ran up his arm had nothing to do with any injury.

            The two of them sat there, hands together, not saying a thing for several minutes, and for the first time in ages, they gladly greeted the silence. It was not awkward, it was not uncomfortable, it was not for the sake of professionalism. It was a calm space. Jemma squeezed Fitz’s hand tighter every minute or so to let him know that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere, and both made a silent wish that this moment would not break.  

 

 

***

 

After what felt like ages and yet not long enough, the two were interrupted from their precious moment. Neither Fitz nor Simmons realized they’d been interrupted until the unwelcome guest spoke.

            “Agent Simmons, I thought you were with Bobbi. She has her final surgery today,” said one of the doctors from earlier, standing in the doorway with a frown on his asymmetrical face.

            She nodded. “I got everything started, but I was called to check on Skye, so someone else took over. Everything’s under control and I’m not due back in until it’s over.”

            The doctor nodded with understanding, but nevertheless, said, “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

            Jemma gripped Fitz’s hand tighter, and there was a definite growl to her tone. “You’ll have to pry him from my cold, dead hands if you think I’m leaving him.”

            The doctor stepped back with a slight look of horror. “Uh, no. I mean you’ll have to leave briefly while we do some tests.

            Jemma gave him a glare instead of speaking, and she stayed put. She’d almost lost Fitz again. Not a chance.

            “Agent Simmons, with all due respect, it’s very important that the environment is distraction free while we do these tests, and quite frankly, you’re a bit of a distraction,” he said, recognizing that she wasn’t planning on doing what he said. “Agent Fitz is recovering remarkably, but he _is_ in recovery, and we need to be sure everything is healing properly. If it’s any consolation, we can send someone to come and fetch you when he’s ready for visitors again.” He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

            Jemma still didn’t like it. Of course she had Fitz’s best interests at heart—she always would—but the thought of leaving him after she’d just gotten him back was not something that sounded even a little bit pleasant. She and Fitz looked at each other, and wordlessly, they came to a conclusion. Fitz squeezed her hand and nodded. Jemma forced herself to nod back, and not until she did did Fitz speak up.

            “She’ll be right out, sir.”

            “Oh, while you’re here,” the doctor added, “I was wondering whether you had any interest in us performing these additional tests on Agent Fitz?” he asked, showing her the file containing the potential plan for Fitz’s medical exams. Jemma gave it a look through, and then nodded.

            “Give them all. I don’t want to risk anything.”

            Jemma stood. “I guess I’ll be back soon.” Gently, she leaned down to place a kiss on Fitz’s forehead, her own cheeks flushing from the act.

            Fitz reached for Jemma’s hand, which was still close enough to touch. He placed a kiss on her knuckles. “That you will.”

            Jemma gave a wave and started backing away. She had barely reached the doorway when Fitz opened his mouth again. “Actually, do you think we could have a moment alone?” he asked, turning his head towards the doctor. “It will just be a moment.”          

            The doctor nodded and drifted out of sight, giving Jemma a grin of good luck as he passed by. Sure, Fitz could have asked her while the doctor was in the room, but it was nerve wracking enough already. He needed the smallest audience possible.

            “What is it, Fitz?” Jemma asked, remaining at the doorway and tucking messy hair behind her ear. Fitz’s hands seemed to be shaking, but he tried his best to have a strong voice.

            Just as Fitz was about to speak, another doctor entered the room. “Agent Simmons, if you’re available, we could really use your help. Agent Coulson said something about Cal and that you’re the only one he trusts to help him with this project? If you wouldn’t mind.”

            Jemma outwardly cringed, but she nodded. “Of course,” she smiled. “I’ll be right there.” The doctor left, and Jemma turned back to Fitz. “Now what was that you were asking?”

            Fitz looked up, as if asking the ceiling for guidance. He put his hand up to his hair, and then returned it to his lap. “Nothing serious. Not serious like…just that…I was just wondering…how would you feel about having a proper dinner together once I’m well again?”

            Jemma responded with delight. “Of course we can! I don’t know when that’ll be of course, and we’ll clearly have to plan around what food’s available to us at the time, but when the time comes, certainly I can cook up something nice for us. We deserve it after everything, don’t we?”

            Fitz shook his head. “What if we ate somewhere else?”

            “What?” She didn’t understand.

            “If you think it’s a dumb idea, I understand, and let me know, no hard feelings. But maybe we could eat somewhere nice, just the two of us? “

            “Oh,” Jemma said, nodding slowly. She squeezed her hands together to remove any chance of overreacting and embarrassing herself. Instead. she gathered herself together, gave one last nod, and said, “I’d like that.”

 

***

           

            Jemma smiled at him one last time and turned around, nodding at Fitz’s doctor when she came across him in the hallway. Jemma stood against that same wall once the doctor had returned to the room. She needed to catch her breath. Fitz had just asked her out. On a date. It was silly, wasn’t it? That among all this destruction, all this war, all it had taken was a little romantic gesture (from Fitz, of course, only ever from Fitz) to put a long overdue smile on her face. It was fitting though. Because even if the world was ending, which it very well could be at this rate, there was no one else she’d rather be beside.

 

           

           

 


End file.
